


Home Again

by DeeNuke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Feels, Fenris/Hawke - Freeform, Fenris/Male Hawke - Freeform, Fenris/m!hawke - Freeform, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, fenhawke - Freeform, fenris & hawke - Freeform, fenris x male hawke, fenris/malehawke, romantic one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNuke/pseuds/DeeNuke
Summary: Fenris' return to Hawke.
Relationships: Fenris & Male Hawke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Home Again

Closing the door of the mansion behind them, Hawke turned around, expecting to see Fenris waiting for him, but the elf already had his back to him, walking away, avoiding to be touched and acting like he had not been greeted by Sandal, Bodahn or Orana. He could see Fenris’ tension, his anger, from the way his shoulders were raised and his fists clenched, one hand still holding on to his broadsword, dragging it after him as though it was a lifeless body. 

With a sigh, Hawke just watched him limp away from them, walking into a random room of the house. Moments later he heard the clang of the sword hitting the ground, then cupboards being opened and shut. Fenris was looking for bandages no doubt, for potions, medicines, anything that could soothe his wounds. Stopping Orana from following him, Hawke gave her a small smile, then handed her his staff and the cloak. “I’ll go to him,” he said softly, the elf bowing deeply as though she had made a grave mistake. Orana was an ex Tevinter slave, just like Fenris, but unlike him, she was still fearful and shy. “Could you bring us some clean, warm water and fetch the elfroot potions?” 

Staff in one hand, Hawke’s cloak draped over the other arm, Orana bowed once more then rushed into a small side room, getting everything Hawke had asked for.

Patting Bodahn’s shoulder as he walked past him, the old dwarf eyeing him worriedly, Hawke followed Fenris, the elf still looking for something, seeing that more sounds came from that room. Popping his head in, Hawke saw him just as he discarded his armour, dropping it onto the floor next to his sword and gauntlets. It seemed like nothing had changed for Fenris; dealing with Tevinter slavers would always be a sore spot for him. Fenris’ Lyrium tattoos were still flaring every now and again, glowing underneath his skin, and it looked like they now intensified the pain he felt; it sure made him bleed more. 

“Orana is bringing us water and some elfroot,” Hawke said, trying to make Fenris aware that he was there and that what he was looking for was soon to be delivered. Looking down at himself, Hawke realised he wasn’t in any better shape, so looking around he grabbed a cloth that was lying on the table and wiped his hands, his eyes never leaving Fenris. He had missed him, had missed him every day since he had left, but Fenris had made a choice and, at least as a friend, he had to respect it. 

He wanted to say something, anything that might calm down the elf, but to his surprise, Fenris looked defeated, as though he was ready to collapse any second. Without a word, Hawke went to him and just took his hand in his, gently squeezing it. “Fenris, you’re safe…,” he whispered, determined to not let go of him even if the elf would fight him. “You know that, right?” he asked, but felt a knot in his throat as the words came out. Did Fenris know he was safe? After all, he despised magic and he, Hawke, was a mage. Could Fenris truly feel safe by his side? Maybe that was why he left. Before he could think of anything else, he saw Fenris nod at him and sigh deeply.

“Yes,” the elf managed, letting out a small shuddering breath, his fingers gently squeezing Hawke’s hand in return. “I know…,” he went on and lowered his eyes for a moment, “I thought I was over this.” Turning his head, he looked at his sword that still lay where he had dropped it, “over this rage and hatred when I’m out there.” He paused, “I thought that I was over you…,” he added silently and felt his heart hammering in his chest, the sting of the Lyrium under his skin.

“This is not Tevinter, Fenris,” Hawke said, but didn’t dare move even if he wanted to touch him, caress him, maybe even kiss him. “You’re free now…,” he continued, his voice calm, hoping that the elf could understand that there were no magisters to fight against anymore, and no magic, not under his roof.

“Someone’s coming,” Fenris cut him off, and with a sigh he took his hand away from Hawke’s, making himself busy by opening yet another cupboard and rummaging through it. “For those who value survival, sentimentality is not an option, Hawke,” he mumbled while pushing some phials out of the way and grabbing a bottle of something, taking it out, uncorking it and smelling its contents. A small sound came from him as he frowned and shuddered, then almost threw the bottle away, but instead thought better of it and left it on top of the cupboard, moving to a shelf.

Sure enough, moments later Orana came in carrying a large bowl of steaming water, bandages, and clean cloth, together with a small basket of elfroot salves. 

“You’re looking for something to drink?” Hawke asked, his brow rising in almost amusement.

“Some wine would help,” Fenris responded resigned, not even turning around, not until Orana was out of the room. 

Looking at the servant, Hawke nodded his thanks then smiled, watching her walk away in a hurry, then his eyes went back to Fenris. “Come here…,” Hawke sighed and waited until Fenris came back. With a soft push, he made him sit down on one of the chairs, then went to a different cupboard, took out a bottle of wine and gave it to Fenris, “Now try to stay still, please?” Taking a clean cloth, he dipped it into the warm water, wrung it out, then gently started to clean Fenris’ wounds.

They were both aware that those wounds could have been easily fixed with magic, Hawke’s magic, yet there they were. They remained silent, with Hawke cleaning the elf’s skin as carefully as possible, not wanting to cause him more discomfort, and Fenris drinking his wine slowly, neck craned and eyes cast.  
“Why did you wait?” Fenris suddenly asked, but otherwise remained still.

“Pardon?” Hawke blinked, mildly startled by the elf’s voice as though he had never heard him speak before.

“Why did you wait?” Fenris repeated, “I mean… why are you not with someone else?” he added and sighed, fearing an answer to that question, but too curious to keep his mouth shut. “You could have been with anyone else all these years,” he went on, “you’re the Champion of Kirkwall after all…”

“That’s what you wanted me to do?” Hawke smiled a little. So this was how it was going to be? Any moment alone was going to be just as rocky and clumsy as their beginning? Without a word, Hawke just ran his fingers through Fenris’ hair. He didn’t care if Fenris was going to break his arm for that; he simply wanted to touch him, or maybe show him that he still cared.

“I wanted you to be happy, Hawke…,” Fenris said and took a swig of wine.

“That’s why you left?” Hawke asked, but anger wriggled into his voice for a moment. He stopped and drew in a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He could not lie to himself or Fenris and say he had not been hurt when Fenris had decided to leave, that he fully understood his reasons or that he had been doing fine in his absence.

“Yes,” Fenris replied bluntly, “you didn’t deserve to deal with someone like me, I don’t think you deserve that now—” he continued, but was interrupted by Hawke.

“I’ve heard enough,” he forced a smile, then sighed, still trying to remain calm. Swallowing hard, Hawke briefly closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “Maker, Fenris…,” he sniffed and dropped the cloth onto the table, grabbed a chair and sat down opposite Fenris. Reaching out, he took the wine bottle from him, took a sip, then gave it back just as Fenris turned his head to look at him. “Someone like you?” Hawke asked, confused, his eyes squinting. “What do you mean? A slave? An elf?” he went on, on the brink of starting to argue, but Fenris’ eyes stopped him in his tracks. Slouching back into the chair, defeated, Hawke snorted, shaking his head a little. He could fight anything, anything but those damn, big, pretty eyes of Fenris.

Scratching the side of his head, Hawke sighed then sniffed. “If I have not been clear enough back then, that’s on me,” he said with a sigh, “but the truth is that I was happy. I was very happy, Fenris, in fact the happiest I’ve been in a long time…,” he added and could see Fenris’ expression change. It looked like the elf didn’t know if he should be happy that he had given Hawke that, or feel guilty because he had left. “I hope you’re not planning on disappearing on me again,” he added, trying to make light of the situation, even if this time, his voice broke a little. 

Listening, Fenris lightly shook his head, but otherwise remained still. He had to admit, he had regretted leaving; he had hurt in ways he hadn’t known he could, and now he didn’t think he deserved to be back in his life. Yet he didn’t want to be anywhere else. There was a long moment of silence until Fenris put the wine bottle away. “If… If you’ll have me… I’m yours, Hawke,” he finally said, his voice quiet, his eyes cast. “Have been since that night we shared,” he frowned, “I… remember your touch as if it were yesterday, and nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.” There it was. He wanted Hawke back, wanted to be back, but what hope did he have? None, but at least he had told him how he truly felt.

Feeling confused for a moment, then like a weight had been lifted off him, Hawke gazed at Fenris. Had he heard that right? Holding out his hand to him, he waited until Fenris took it, then gently squeezed it before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “That’s all I wanted to hear in the first place…,” he said softly, while holding Fenris’ gaze, his hand still by his lips. It was real. That, or he was trapped in the Fade with a nice demon giving him a very pleasant dream to dream for eternity, while it had its way walking the earth in Hawke’s shoes.

“And I’m enough?” Fenris asked, and Hawke blinked as though pulled out of a reverie.

A smile growing on his lips, Hawke sighed in relief, now finally feeling like he was not walking on egg-shells. This was not a dream, Fenris was really there and he was coming back to him. Reaching up, his other hand cupped Fenris’ cheek and gently pulled him closer. “You always were…,” he smiled even more before his lips sealed Fenris’. 

They didn’t stop kissing, and they would not have stopped if an explosion had not done that for them, a happy ‘Enchantment!’ shout following right after.

“Sandal!” Hawke sighed, but when he looked at Fenris, the elf was smiling as though the sound of Sandal’s voice gave him peace. “What?”

“I… I missed this,” Fenris whispered and looked around him, “I missed you…,” he added and now looked at Hawke, his eyes clear and happy.

“You’re… really staying, aren’t you?” Hawke asked and saw Fenris nod. Looking around, he pondered for a moment, then raising his hands a little as though he was surrendering, he held the elf’s gaze. “Then… do you think you could trust me?” He knew that Fenris would understand what he meant. 

Eyes on Hawke’s hands, Fenris remained silent for a bit, then finally smiled and nodded, slowly turning his bruised back to him. Yes, he trusted Hawke, he trusted everything about Hawke… his magic included, because those hands had never hurt him. And with that small thought, he felt the warmth of his magic spreading through him, soothing his wounds. “Enchantment, indeed,” Fenris chuckled to himself; he was finally home again.


End file.
